


Regarding Fear and Flesh

by Okappa



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anduin Bottom, First Time, M/M, Wrathion Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okappa/pseuds/Okappa
Summary: What if Wrathion had shown up before the 4th war started? This is a story about Anduin and Wrathion, and how they reconnect after such a long time apart. More of a setting for WrathionxAnduin action really! Most events are described from Anduin’s point of view. M/M sex in later chapters. Both main characters are adults. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Regarding Fear and Flesh

**Some time before the 4 th War.**

Anduin lied in bed, unable to move his arms and legs as a female figure bent over him, her long dark hair almost touching his face.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, with faked affection. “You need to prepare, prince, your father is already in the screaming room and he is waiting for you!”

Hate boiled up in Anduin’s chest as soon as he recognized her, but his body wouldn’t obey. A tear rolled down the side of his face as he looked up at the grinning woman.

Katrana straightened her body and adjusted her gown as she walked towards a dresser on the other side of the room.

“Oh, I know! I’ll pick out an outfit for you, like I did when you were little! Such an important day. We get to decide how many people will die again!” she said, excitedly clapping her hands.

The she-dragon laid out his clothes with great care and then climbed into bed next to him. “You just point your finger at a place on the map, any place you want, and your father will start a war there,” she said, pointing a lazy finger at the ceiling.

The young king breathed in short, angry breaths; all his words trapped in his throat as he focused all his energy into moving his body.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it, your peace-loving mother will not be there, she never will be,” she whispered, as if telling him a secret.

Anduin couldn’t turn to look at her face, paralyzed as he was, and yet he could somehow see that her eyes had turned reptilian.

“I will bind my bloodline to yours, Wrynn,” she said, in a deep, guttural voice. “I always wanted a kingdom of my own.”

Anduin shot up in bed with a gasp, he was out of breath and sweat was running down his back. It was just a dream, or if he wanted to be honest with himself, just another of his many recurring nightmares. He could tell that dawn was still hours away, but he couldn’t possibly go back to sleep, the nightmares would find him again. He got up from the bed—that was fine with him—he could use an early start today anyway.

* * *

Anduin stood in front of the ruins of Northfold Manor, the sun was barely over the horizon and the morning mist obscured his view of the surrounding fields, abandoned now and overgrown with weeds. This used to be a farm, then a hideout for members of the Syndicate, and just a few days ago, the perfect place to watch a great tragedy unfold. He hoped he would have enough time to pay his respects to the Forsaken that lay in a tiny graveyard a few miles away, that was if he survived this meeting.

The thought made the young king shiver more than the morning chill did, or maybe it was because he was having second thoughts. The message had instructed him to come to this location alone, presumably from the Warchief of the Horde herself, there was a big chance this whole thing was a trap, but a private meeting with the opposing faction’s leader was a wish-come-true for Anduin, especially after the recent fiasco. The new substance that had surfaced in Silithus after Sargeras’ attack, this “Azerite” the Speaker claimed was the world’s very blood, appeared to have great catastrophic potential, and Anduin feared that weaponizing it was going to be Sylvanas’ first priority as soon as he was informed. So here he was, waiting for the Banshee Queen in hope of convincing her that both sides would be better off trying to kill one another with more conventional means.

The thought almost made him laugh, it was the chill that made him shiver, he was certain. Something moved in the mist and the young king was once more alert, his hand on Fearbreaker hanging at his side and his mind focused on calling upon the Light in a heartbeat. Anduin didn’t mean to appear hostile or nervous in Sylvanas’ presence, but his body had almost moved on its own, he had a feeling there was something wrong, a feeling that gnawed at him ever since he received the letter summoning him there, but he had to ignore it. His optimism had gotten the best of him once more, he was almost certain now, he only hoped that if he were to fall to a Dark Ranger’s arrow this day, hundreds of thousands more wouldn’t follow him to the grave the very next.

As he expected, an arrow whistled by his head a few moments later and he retreated back into the manor’s remains for cover. He was actually surprised that Sylvanas, or one of her Rangers, missed their mark.

For a moment he wished he had the ability to summon a portal like a mage, but the Light didn’t offer him such conveniences. He left that thought and gathered his mind, he had to come up with a plan if he were to escape with his life, and subsequently prevent an all-out war.

He could jump on his horse, tied to a post behind the decrepit building, and make a run for Thandol Span, if he made it into the Wetlands he’d be safe, his attackers wouldn’t follow him there, but that would only make him a moving target in a place like this, and the easiest thing for them to do would be to wait for him at the massive bridge, since it was his only way back to Alliance territory by land.

Any place beyond Thorandin’s Wall was out of the question, so he was left with only one choice, he would have to ride as hard as he could to Stromgarde Keep and draw them into the old buildings where he could engage them in close combat—given he didn’t have an arrow sticking out his back by the time he got there.

The sound of someone moving brought Anduin out of his thoughts, it wasn’t a sound really, more like a presence, he could tell that there was someone there looking for him but not entering the ruins or coming into sight. At that moment the young king decided to act, he spun at his heels and made a run for his horse, all the while trying to form a shield around him, although it was really hard to focus. This was a bad idea, and now everyone was going to pay for his mistake, he was not ready to rule, he was not “aunt” Jaina who held secret meetings with Horde leaders and tea, he was mistaken, and he had doomed thousands.

He climbed on his horse and rode as fast as he could, another arrow flew past his right shoulder, missing him by a few inches, and hit a tree instead. The black feathers of the arrow were unmistakable, he had walked right into a trap and now he was target practice for the Dark Rangers.

The massive wall separating Arathi Highlands from Hillsbrad Foothills to his right was beginning to catch the light of the rising sun as he made it into the open, where he would be most vulnerable. He half expected to find himself surrounded by several Forsaken as he approached the old keep, but there was no one on the road. Whoever it was that was attacking him didn’t want to be seen, or maybe the number of individuals Sylvanas trusted with the assassination of a king was too small, or even worse, maybe she was after him herself. Whatever the case was, it worked to his benefit for now, as he was almost at Stromgarde’s walls.

Anduin suddenly found himself covering his face as he was flung by his horse towards the ground headfirst. The animal was struck in its chest by an arrow and the pain made it abruptly stop, forcing all its weight on its front legs that collapsed beneath it, sending the young king tumbling several feet ahead of it.

Anduin managed to land on his shoulder instead of his face, he had several cuts and forming bruises, and the pain in his side told him that something was probably broken. He looked at his dying horse with guilt, this was all his fault, tears stung his eyes and at that moment instead of covering the small remaining distance between him and the keep, he planted his feet on the ground and called upon the Light. A golden-hued aura began to form around the fallen horse’s body, and four golden shields, that resembled those of the guards back in Stormwind, started hovering around Anduin and the dying animal. He was going to fix this, he was going to save his mount, stop his assassins and go back to Stormwind to make this all clear. Someone was clearly underestimating him if they thought that was all it took to kill him.

After a few heartbeats the horse started moving its legs again, the arrow pushed out of its chest as its flesh healed, and then it was standing up once again. More arrows were loosened against Anduin during that time but none of it made it past his defenses, they only worked to make them stronger as his resolve to survive grew stronger with every new attempt to hurt him.

Then a big shadow covered the sun and Anduin’s chest sank. “Go!” he screamed at the horse that had now found its footing and moved towards him, he would make sure at least one of them survived this day. The animal turned around and started running towards the opposite direction, startled by his voice and the waving of his hands. He turned around expecting to see a plaguebat descending upon him, instead he saw massive black wings beating against the sun, and then he was airborne.

* * *

Anduin was roughly deposited on the ground by a young black dragon who looked like he was going to rip his head off at that moment.

“Really?” Wrathion yelled at him as he switched back into his human form, “A secret meeting with the enemy? Are you out of your mind?”

They had landed some miles beyond Thandol Span and the young dragon’s voice echoed against the rock façade of the passage into the Wetlands. He was not wearing his usual luxurious clothing this day, instead he was wearing a simple black linen shirt, black leather pants and boots. His rich black hair swaying freely in the wind.

Anduin was stunned by the view for a moment, staring at Wrathion as it all hit him. What had just happened, and how being rescued by Wrathion made him feel. He was almost overwhelmed, but then the dragon's angry, crimson glare brought him back to the present.

“I was trying to reach out to the other side, Wrathion. We need to learn how to work together with the Horde if we are going to overcome this whole Azerite situation,” Anduin answered him as he tried to dust off his tattered clothes. Suddenly, he felt too conscious of his disheveled appearance in front of the dragon.

“You received a letter that instructed you _—the High King of the Alliance_ —to show up alone, at a remote location, without telling anyone, and you simply did as you were told!” Wrathion reprimanded him, the volume of his voice still high.

Anduin turned from rearranging his clothes to the dragon in surprise. “How did you know? I never showed the letter to anyone or told anyone about it.” It was his turn to be upset.

“Because I am a Dragon Aspect and I know things,” Wrathion answered defensively, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You are not an Aspect. How did you know?” Anduin insisted. Was he that worried about his safety, or was he keeping such close tabs to the Horde-Alliance relations, that the young king should also be worried about a new Pandaria situation?

“The letter was intercepted by one of my Black Talons on its way to Stormwind. Should I point out, it was not carried by a “permanent” member of the SI:7, if there is such a thing as a permanent member in that bunch. By the time it reached you, I knew all about it.”

Anduin felt anger rise in his chest. “Oh, is that all? You _intercepted_ the king’s communications and you admit it just like that?” He wanted to scream, maybe he should, no one would listen there. “What are you scheming? Do you know through what pains I went to keep you from being imprisoned—or even worse—for what happened at the Temple of the White Tiger? Is this how you repay me?”

Wrathion’s shoulders momentarily tensed, but other than that, his expression remained unchanged, a hint of a smirk across his pouty dark lips and a black brow half-raised. “I would like to see anyone actually managing to capture me, let alone kill me. Unlike you, I am hard to kill.”

Anduin turned to leave, he was going to walk all the way back to Ironforge if he had to, as long as he could be away from that dragon at that moment.

“Where are you going?” the black dragon asked, as he followed him on the path.

“Back to Ironforge, my absence will be noted soon, and I will have a lot of questions to answer regarding it, and the state that I’m in right now,” he answered, pointing at his clothes.

“Wait,” Wrathion said, putting a hand on his shoulder, nobody touched the king so casually—not even when he was a young prince—but Wrathion always did.

He spun him around and placed both hands on his shoulders, Anduin couldn’t meet his eyes, not when they were so close, so he looked at his boots. That’s when he noticed that all his clothes were now fully cleaned and repaired, Wrathion had pulled him so close to use his magic for such a practicality, the human didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Thanks,” he murmured, still without meeting his eyes, and turned to leave again, he was being a child but he didn’t care; the dragon deserved it. Plus, he was the one being a child most of the time, so it didn’t matter if Anduin did it too. He was free to be like that with Wrathion.

“There are several things I couldn’t find out about that letter, Anduin.” The Black Prince hardly called him by a title anymore, he only did when there was someone else present as if he knew he was still uncomfortable with his new title. "And it is rare that I cannot find the information I am looking for. That piece of paper you received has never crossed the Great Sea, or that bridge right there. It came into existence while in Alliance territory,” he said, capturing Anduin’s attention.

“What does that mean?” the blond asked tiredly, he knew what it probably meant already.

“Several other high-ranking members of the SI:7 didn’t know of this letter either, and I have not yet confirmed whether Shaw was aware of it. Although, I guess we wouldn’t be here if he was, unless…” Wrathion let his words trail off.

“My father worked with that man, he trusted him, he would never do that,” the young king answered, although he was not as certain as he hoped he sounded. “Are you saying that Sylvanas, or someone from the Horde, were not involved in this? I was going to be assassinated by my own people?”

“As I said, I was not able to find all the answers I wanted, but you managed to make a trip to Ironforge with the bare minimum security and disappear in the middle of the night on the back of a horse. Someone is not being mindful of your well-being.”

Anduin’s anger returned to him. “Oh, so you were watching me too? Anything else I need to know?”

“Your attackers were not Dark Rangers, although they were really good at concealing themselves, like the little cowards they were,” Wrathion answered, overlooking Anduin’s annoyance.

“Well, that really narrows it down,” Anduin said, while turning on the path, trying to hide the limp the pain in his side caused him. Wrathion wasn’t there to protect him, if he wanted him safe, he would have prevented him from riding north in the first place. No, he just wanted to lure out whoever had sent that letter, and Anduin was the bait. The young king suddenly felt overwhelmed by that thought, although he knew he shouldn’t be. Wrathion had no reason to protect him and no right to stop him, despite that, his chest still felt tight.

He felt Wrathion’s hand on his shoulder again _. Was he doing it on purpose?_

“Please, let me take you back to Ironforge. If you fly in with me, we can say we were out flying together or something,” the dragon’s voice sounded softer now, if Anduin didn’t know better, he would think there was a hint of an apology in it.

“Well, that would be very helpful,” the human said, and turned to see that Wrathion had already turned into his dragon form.

* * *

As they neared Ironforge, Anduin took in the sight of Dun Morogh, it all looked so beautiful and peaceful from such a great height. He had crossed the area on a gryphon’s back before, but their flying was not as steady and smooth as that of a dragon’s. Wrathion was not a fully-grown dragon yet, he would probably reach that stage when Anduin is an old and grey man or even dead, but he was still pretty large, not the whelp he had met back in Pandaria so long ago. The dragon kept his wings spread and glided on the wind for a while before descending to Ironforge, as if he could tell how much Anduin enjoyed the view.

They landed on one of the openings that lead to the parts of the dwarven city that were above-ground, rooms sculpted right out of the face of the mountain instead of dug into the earth. Anduin’s room was actually in that very part of the city, after the events at Kharanos when he was a child, he preferred chambers that were above-ground whenever he visited. The young king wondered if Wrathion had gone as far as finding out exactly where his quarters were as he watched him switch back into his human form, amazed by the dragon’s magic no matter how many times he saw it. He was in his luxurious attire now, some inches taller than Anduin, with a lean but muscular frame and a strong jaw, the only thing that remained of the boy he had met back in Pandaria, were his red glowing eyes. He knew he should be suspicious of Wrathion for knowing so many things regarding his whereabouts, but he was secretly happy.

“Like what you see?” Wrathion’s question snapped Anduin back into the present.

He tried to come up with a witty retort, but he ended up stuttering until he was interrupted by Moira’s concerned voice.

“Where have yae been?” the dwarf asked, while flailing her arms about. Her small size belied her grand personality, and despite her actions all those years ago, Anduin had grown to like Moira, he was really glad he had convinced his father to spare her life.

“Forgive me,” Anduin answered, while trying to come up with a good excuse. “I met my old friend Wrathion here during my morning walk and asked him to fly me over Dun Morogh. The view really is breathtaking.” At least he wasn’t lying about that.

“Well, yae should have left a message with yer guards, young king,” Moira scolded him. “We were all worried sick that something had happened ta yae under our very noses.”

Something would have happened to me _,_ Anduin thought, but he didn’t share that with her of course.

“Well, really nice to see you queen-regent,” Wrathion said, with a small bow. “But we were having a conversation that we would like to continue in his quarters. If you would excuse us,” he said, patting Anduin on the back towards the exact direction of his room. _So, he did know where his quarters were._

Moira was left with her mouth half-open but then she relaxed and smiled. “Of course, yae young lads must have a lot ta say not suitable for an old lady like meself,” she said, raising her eyebrows and looking down. “Just don’t be too late tae come fer breakfast or yae won’t find anything ta eat, you know us dwarves and our food. You are invited too, young dragon,” she said, and walked away with a wink.

Anduin wanted to explain to her that they were not a couple of boys talking about their exploits with girls or anything like that, but Wrathion shoved him towards his room before he could clarify that.

As he entered his room, Anduin noticed that the guards standing outside looked relieved to see him for a moment, although they said nothing, he also noticed the suspicious looks they shot Wrathion and how the dragon appeared not to notice them.

“Can you heal yourself?” Wrathion asked, as soon as they were alone in his room.

“Yes, it’s nothing serious,” Anduin lied, as he stood there awkwardly for a moment, he didn’t know what to do now that the Black Prince was in his quarters. Should he sit on the bed? Would that be acting too casual? Maybe the desk, but there was only one chair, where would Wrathion sit? On his bed? That thought made Anduin instantly opt for the bed, after what he hoped didn’t look like a long time.

Wrathion was the complete opposite of him when it came to that, well, and most other things. He sat in the chair without a second of hesitation and examined the room with curious eyes.

“Well, are you going to do it?” Wrathion finally said.

“What?” Anduin blinked.

“Are you going to heal yourself or are you going to wait around until your bruises are nice and blue, and everyone thinks I dropped you somewhere?” Wrathion said.

Of course, his dragon pride, and here Anduin thought he was worried about him. He tried to focus through the pain in his side—and Wrathion’s stare—and let the Light flow through him, but it was just too much. In the space of a few hours he had almost gotten himself killed, he had almost started a war, his ribs were definitely busted, and now a certain dragon made his chest feel tighter and tighter with every word he said from the moment he showed up that morning.

Anduin gave up, he opened his eyes again to see that Wrathion was still staring, he was thankful that the dragon didn’t ask him anything about his healing and bent down to untie his boots. The pain in his side was almost unbearable as he did that, but he just wanted to take his shoes off, lie on the bed, and hope sleep would maybe make his pain go away. The dragon would have to leave for him to achieve that though; Anduin ended up not knowing whether he wanted the dragon to be away from him or not.

Once he managed to complete that painful task, he lied on his back and closed his eyes, feeling all his previous thoughts draining from his head.

He secretly hoped Wrathion was looking at him, stretched out on the bed like that, and a smirk formed on his face. And just like that, the pain was gone. He had reached out to the Light for comfort, and it had answered his plea as soon as he let himself enjoy the moment.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted, probably because of all the previous tension leaving his body. Breakfast be damned, he was going to sleep until noon, he had kept his schedule clear for the day because of his secret morning business anyway. When he opened his eyes again though, a new wave of tension washed over him; Wrathion was sitting on the bed next to him.

The blond felt all his blood rush to his face and his chest go tight with Wrathion so close to him, the sides of their thighs touching.

“Anduin?” the dragon said.

“Yeah?” Anduin answered, and closed his eyes again, maybe he could pretend Wrathion was still sitting in the chair.

“What would you have talked to the Banshee Queen about if you had managed to meet her today?”

Anduin’s brow furrowed, they were not supposed to be talking about stuff like that, although they had broken that unspoken rule on several occasions. Unfortunately, trust was still something their relationship lacked greatly.

“I can’t answer that question, not when it comes from someone who has no ties to the Alliance.”

“Oh Anduin, you are hurting my feelings!” Wrathion said, in a dramatic way.

The young king couldn’t help but smile slightly. The dragon was sitting so close to him, in the same room, on the same bed, calling him by his name alone, it felt like a dream.

“About Azerite, Wrath. I was going to talk to her about Azerite,” Anduin said, and belatedly realized that he called his friend by a nickname he hadn’t called him in a long time.

The dragon remained silent, and Anduin opened his eyes again to look at him. Wrathion had the same old veiled expression he always wore on his face, although this time it seemed to crack a little, Anduin would swear Wrathion looked a little sad.

“Are you going to turn her blood into a weapon?” the black dragon asked, after a moment of silence.

“No, I am definitely not going to do that, although I have some strong opposition on this issue, and I hoped I could convince my Horde counterpart to do the same,” he told Wrathion, and turned to face him. It was sadness on his face after all, despite his misgivings Wrathion loved Azeroth, he belonged to the dragonflight most connected to her, after all.

He expected Wrathion to ask him to deliberate on his answer but he remained silent, his eyes wandering the room although there was not much to see there. Anduin only wanted to have the absolutely necessary around him no matter where he stayed, material possessions didn’t mean much to him. His crimson gaze returned to him once more and Anduin felt heat in his cheeks as their eyes met.

“Are you going to get married now that you are king?” Wrathion asked surprising Anduin, and let his body fall back on the bed with a flop.

“Uh, one day maybe, I don’t know, and only if it’s someone I’ve fallen in love with anyway,” he answered, trying to keep his voice neutral and a bit to the annoyed side.

“I see,” the dragon simply answered, the sadness in his eyes still there. Was this connected to his flight too, maybe? To his knowledge, there were no female black dragons alive, and for some reason that made him feel relieved for a second, but the next he wanted to throw himself off one of the openings on the mountain’s face. Something like that was not supposed to make him feel relieved.

“So, there isn’t somebody like that now? A girl that you’re in love with?” Wrathion asked, while looking at him intently.

Anduin blinked, he was certain his face was turning as red as the dragon’s eyes, so he turned away. Now it was his turn to look around the room, he couldn’t possibly give him an answer to such a question and look him in the eye at the same time.

“No,” he said. Not a girl at least, he thought, but kept it to himself.

“I was just thinking that Calia Menethil would be a very suitable choice of a partner, even in her undead state. You’d have claim over Lordaeron, and a queen its people would consider one of their own. That way you can hold Sylvanas’ own people over her head.”

A lump wedged itself in Anduin's throat. He brought his forearm over his eyes and remained silent.

"Anduin-"

"Well," Anduin said, interrupting whatever the dragon was about to say."If we are talking about that kind of marriage, I think I should marry Baine. We really do get along, and the Tauren would be a great addition to our forces, and a huge loss for the Horde at the same time."

He didn't have the strength to hide the poison in his voice or to uncover his face and look at him, take in his reaction. He was too angry to even begin to imagine what was going through his friend’s head.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The silence grew and stretched out, like a creature that could take up all the space in the small room, if given the chance.

Anduin finally managed to find the courage to look at Wrathion's face. He looked a little out of his element, his lips set in a straight line and his eyes riveted to the ancient ceiling.

“I didn’t arrange for my people to meet their loved ones in Arathi for leverage,” he choked out, the words leaving his mouth as if someone else spoke them.

“I see,” Wrathion simply answered, never turning to look at him, and got up from the bed. “You should rest, you had a long morning,” he continued, and walked out of the room without looking back.

Anduin’s heart was beating hard and fast in his chest, and as he tiredly ran his hand down his face, he realized there were tears there that quickly grew and blurred his vision. He sucked in a quick breath and curled in on himself, he was never going to be able to tell what the dragon was thinking. He fell asleep wondering what he was about to say before he interrupted him.

He woke up around noon to the sound of Ironforge guards chasing his horse around in the halls outside his room.

* * *

Anduin stood on one of the many balconies of Stormwind Keep, looking down at the newly built embassy. The Alliance needed more—well—allies and the embassy had been built just for that. A place where any race could come to seek a place among their ranks.

Turalyon and his connection to the Army of the Light had brought in the Lightforged draenei, while Alleria had contacted former blood elves that had turned to the Void in search of a new source of power.

Anduin was looking at the two of them now, Turalyon and Alleria chatting merrily under the shade of a tree by the embassy. Rumor had it that they could not physically touch anymore because of the connection they had to the Light and the Void. Yet, here they were, a man bound to the Light and a woman who had opened up to the Void, enjoying each other’s company like any ordinary couple. _One light and one dark like, like-_ Anduin shook his head, his long, blond hair flailing around as he did so.

He was trying to pull them up into a tighter ponytail when he noticed Wrathion approaching the couple. It was a month since he had seen him last in Ironforge, and for some reason, he felt really nervous now, even more than he usually did.

He remained there where he could not be seen and watched him interact with the other two. He noticed how he stood closer to Turalyon than to Alleria, black dragons and the Void didn’t make a good combination after all, and that scared him for a moment. Maybe the Old Gods’ influence could find him here, turn him mad, take him away. Anduin stopped himself, no, he was just standing there talking to two of his most valued allies, waving one hand around as he spoke, like he usually did. Suddenly, Anduin felt the need to talk to him.

He moved back into the keep and almost ran down the stairs to meet him, but he remained composed, walking the distance between the keep and the embassy looking like a king should, or at least he hoped he did.

“Ah! I was looking for you!” Wrathion exclaimed, as he saw him approaching.

The way the dragon spoke to him, and even looked at him, didn’t appear to have changed despite the way they had parted the last time they had seen each other, and that helped him relax.

“King Anduin." Wrathion calling him by his royal title almost made him wince. “As I was explaining to High Exarch Turalyon and Lady Windrunner, I am here to present an offer that could greatly augment the might of the Alliance."

Anduin raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had not heard of any race or nation taking an interest in joining the Alliance lately.

“And what might that offer be?” the king asked.

“Well, that would be myself!” Wrathion answered, with a huge grin as he placed an open palmed hand on his own chest for dramatic effect.

Anduin just stood there for a moment, he could feel the eyes of both Turalyon and Alleria moving from one to the other and back again, but he couldn’t believe it. The Black Prince, leader of the Black Talons and self-proclaimed last black dragon of Azeroth—or at least they all thought he was until Ebyssian showed up—who took pride in moving in the shadows and remaining unaffiliated, was offering to join the Alliance.

“Well, I cannot make that decision by myself,” Anduin answered, while trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “But I am certain a dragon will be a welcome addition.”

Wrathion was beaming, of course, he had come knowing that he wasn’t really going to be turned down, but he looked pleased all the same.

“Would you mind walking with me? There are more things I would like to discuss with you regarding your offer,” the young king said.

“Of course,” Wrathion answered and nodded goodbye to the couple. Now that there was going to be no one else present during their conversation Anduin felt his anxiety rise again, maybe he should have remained there in the safety of Alleria’s and Turalyon’s presence, but he really had to find out the reason behind the dragon’s proposition.

“Wrathion, is everything alright?” he asked, as soon as he was certain they were out of earshot.

“No,” Wrathion simply answered, surprising him. Somewhere in his mind, Anduin hoped that maybe the black dragon was trying to join the Alliance on a whim, but of course, that wasn’t the case. “But I would prefer it if we could talk somewhere more private,” he continued.

Anduin led the way to his private quarters inside the Stormwind Keep and felt his palms go sweaty. Hardly anyone ever entered his room apart from the people working at the Keep, and Wrathion's lack of sense of personal space didn’t help with his increasing anxiety either.

“There’s no reason for you to worry, this room is completely safe, no one can listen in on our conversation here,” he told Wrathion when he noticed him looking around intently.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he answered, almost absentmindedly as he kept looking around, although there was not much to see. Anduin’s room had a canvas bed with a nightstand at each of its sides, a wooden desk, a chair and a big pile of books. There was a fireplace too if that counted for anything.

Well, if Wrathion wasn’t worried, then he was interested in his room, the place where he slept. Anduin entertained that idea for a while, but then he turned to address his friend, who he realized was already sitting on his bed. Anduin tried not to look too flushed by something as simple as that and casually pulled out his chair to sit in.

Wrathion cut straight to the chase as soon as they were settled. “Someone wants war,” he said. “And it’s not the Alliance nor the Horde, but there is someone or something out there that would benefit greatly from having you, at each other’s throats.”

“Who or what is it? And how did you find out?” Anduin asked, fully alert now.

“That is the tricky part,” Wrathion answered, leaning back to support his weight on his elbows. “It’s more about all that I failed to find out—and let me elaborate. I have several people in several places, but the more people I send towards some of them, the less return. And that is how I know there is something wrong there, I just don’t know what exactly.”

“I will need a little more than that,” Anduin replied, trying not to get too distracted by the way his hair flowed to his shoulders.

“Organizations like the SI:7 regulate information between both sides, Anduin. Some of my Talons used to be SI:7, I know how they work. There is someone making sure all the wrong information reaches all the right people, mostly regarding Azerite and acts of aggression.”

“Is that what happened in Arathi then? A third party is trying to start a war?”

“I understand why you would doubt that, but don’t trust your agents, Anduin. At least not all of them.”

“My men are not trying to start a war.” Anduin stood up and paced the room.

“I’m not saying it’s intentional, they are probably relaying information they do not know is false.”

“Someone who tricks spymasters on both sides at the same time. Who could that be?” he said, and risked approaching the bed.

Wrathion let out a deep sigh and fell back on the bed with his arms spread out. “I think it’s the Old Gods,” he said, and if Anduin hadn’t spoken to him as many times as he had, he wouldn’t have been able to catch the reluctance in his voice.

Anduin’s previous concerns returned twofold, Wrathion tainted by the Old Gods, driven mad and killed like Deathwing. Suddenly, he grew so worried he wanted to lie next to Wrathion, put his head on his shoulder and-“Why would you say that?” the human asked, trying, and completely failing, to sound calm.

“Because they told me!” Wrathion said, lifting one fist in the air.

“What?” Anduin froze in place.

Wrathion burst into laughter, throwing back his head and holding his sides. It was the loudest Anduin had ever heard him laugh.

“You should have seen your face!” he said, still giggling. “Of course, I’m joking!” He held out his hands in defense and continued to laugh a deep, honest laugh, the kind that rarely left his lips.

“You bastard!” Anduin exclaimed, moving towards Wrathion for retribution. If the dragon wasn’t so genuinely entertained by his reaction, Anduin would have punched him for real, but he just knelt on the bed next to him and tried to get a few light punches in his stomach, although Wrathion managed to deflect them all. Then the dragon grabbed him by his wrists and with one swift move, pulled him down on the bed without letting go.

All playfulness left his face and his voice as he lied there on top of him. “You were really worried there for a minute, but you really had me worried too, so now we are even," he said, bringing his face so close Anduin could feel the heat he emitted, a trait unique to his kind; a dragon of the earth. Being close enough to feel it was a rare occasion.

“You could have stopped me,” Anduin said, trying to tear his eyes from Wrathion’s lips but not managing very well.

“I’m not your father, Anduin, I’m no one to you really, and I definitely don’t have the authority to tell you what to do.” The young king was so overwhelmed by the unguarded expression Wrathion wore at that moment; he was at a loss for words.

The dragon’s proximity was making Anduin’s body react, one of his legs trapped between Wrathion’s and his bony hip digging into his abdomen as his arms clenched his wrists tight, he could only pray Wrathion wouldn’t notice as he fumbled to find the words to answer him or find any words at all.

“You are important to me, Wrathion. I would have listened to you—I think more than I would have listened to anyone else.” This was the closest he could get to expressing his true feelings without risking scaring his friend away, or at least he hoped it was.

“Yet you never came to talk to me about it,” he responded, dropping a little closer.

If this went on any longer Anduin was going to explode in every sense of the word. “Well, I didn’t know where to find you when I needed your advice for so long, so I guess…force of habit?” Anduin knew his answer was mean, but Wrathion had truly hurt him back then, he still did from time to time, he had no right to ask that of him now.

Wrathion put up his defenses again because Anduin knew them for what they were ever since they were just children back in Pandaria, defenses that included a cocky attitude and a perpetually indifferent expression.

"Well, now that I have _ties_ to the Alliance maybe you'll trust me enough to ask me for advice," Wrathion replied, in a level voice and got off the bed. "Since I’ll be siding with you guys, I guess I have a target on my back too now, so we'll find out who wants us all fighting sooner or later, right?” he continued, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Wrathion’s admission into the Alliance was a typical procedure, with several smiles and handshakes, and a few angry looks from Greymane. Their eyes met from across the main hall of the Embassy, but apart from a few formal exchanges, Anduin and Wrathion didn’t talk to one another.

Now it had been a week since that night, and Anduin hadn’t heard from him at all. He felt the need to apologize to him, but he knew he shouldn’t, the Black Prince should come around on his own—but what if he didn’t? What if he disappeared again? The thought put a knot in Anduin’s stomach, but he had to push it away. He had enough on his plate already.

Tensions were rising in Kalimdor as Azerite became more and more sought after by—well—everyone and Anduin could feel the war approaching like a tidal wave. Yet he couldn't stop wondering where the dragon was.

Then Mathias Shaw stepped out of the shadows of the throne room, and Anduin felt his chest tighten as Wrathion’s words about the SI:7 returned to him.

“My king,” the spymaster saluted. “I have come to update you on the situation in Silithus. More and more goblins show up by the day, the place is pretty much a massive excavation site.”

“Well, we were already aware of that, to be honest. Has anything else happened? Should I call for Genn?” the king asked. Shaw had precious little time to spare, he wouldn’t show up in person just to repeat what was already known.

“To be honest, I wanted to speak with you alone about one of the Alliance’s latest additions, the black dragon Wrathion,” he said, with some reluctance, crossing his arms on the small of his back and pacing the room.

“Is there something troubling you? I know a black dragon is hard to trust, but I can assure you he is not your average specimen.” Anduin hoped he appeared ignorant to the spymaster, although he already suspected what he was about to say.

“He has reportedly appeared all over Kalimdor in the past week. Silithus, Tanaris, Azhara, Teldrassil, there were even reports of him visiting the Exodar.” Shaw stopped pacing and turned to look at him. The young king knew he was studying his expression.

“It’s only natural for a dragon to traverse the world like that, I guess, and visiting Alliance or neutral territories doesn’t raise any concerns in my eyes.” Anduin wasn’t going to give him any indication of worry. His instincts told him that he could trust this man, and so did his old wounds, but he couldn’t dismiss the dragon’s words, not yet.

“What if I told you he may have been sighted near Undercity, too?” Shaw said, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“You don’t sound certain. Accusing a member of the Alliance of fraternizing with the enemy is no small thing.” Anduin sat up from the throne and approached Shaw, there were guards present, he knew they were watching their interaction closely, even though they would never intervene without an order, or tell anyone about what transpired in that room. He felt a little self-conscious as he stood in front of the spymaster trying to appear mildly menacing, but he wanted Shaw to be reminded that one should choose their words carefully in the presence of a king.

“That is why I would never do such a thing,” Shaw replied, calmly inclining his head. “I have no concerns about him being in contact with the Horde, or even spying on the Horde, my concern is that he appears to be spying on us.”

“Us?” Was the only word that left Anduin’s lips as several thoughts rushed through his head. He knew _us_ meant the SI:7, but how could Wrathion be spotted that easily? He had spent years out in the world with no one reporting so much as a trace of him. No, he was doing this on purpose, he wanted to be found by whoever or whatever targeted both the Horde and the Alliance, by whoever had tried to kill him in a field near a ruined farm.

“The SI:7, I mean.” Shaw’s voice snapped him back to the present. He reminded himself he had to appear unaware, Wrathion had shared his suspicions with him alone, and Anduin wasn’t going to betray his trust.

“Wrathion and his Black Talons have a method of operation that I believe is not that different from how the SI:7 works, that could lead to several misunderstandings,” Anduin said, returning to his throne. “Rest assured that I will contact our new ally and have this situation resolved as soon as possible. It is imperative to be open with one another if we wish our cooperation to yield any positive results.”

“I can tell you have each other's backs now, but an overprotective dragon can be troubling, especially at times like these, when spies appear to be hiding under every rock.”

Shaw’s comment almost made the young king smile. “I will take care of this, rest assured. If there is nothing more to report, you are dismissed. You should get some rest too.”

“If only I had the time.” Shaw’s lips curved into a smile as he bowed lightly and left the throne room.

At least now Anduin had a reason to contact Wrathion.

* * *

The news reached Anduin moments before sending out the missive to contact the Black Prince, and they came from his old mentor, Prophet Velen. Apparently, Wrathion had all but collapsed at the gates of the Exodar and now he wouldn’t let anyone approach him, but the King of Stormwind himself. The ancient Draenei had informed him in his message that the dragon was hurt, but he hadn’t gone into detail.

Wrathion putting himself out there as bait had worked, but at what a cost? All the worst-case scenarios flooded Anduin’s mind, until he stepped into the portal leading to the Exodar. The young king let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he stepped into Wrathion’s room.

“Wrath?” The nickname left his lips before he realized it when he saw him lying motionless on the bed. He could only hope Velen or his guards didn’t notice the desperation. The dragon opened his crimson eyes and focused on him with some effort.

“Finally,” he mumbled, but didn’t move otherwise.

Anduin wanted to get under the covers and run his hands all over him, cocoon them both in there until he was certain he was all healed and safe. “Would you excuse us?” he calmly said, instead.

“Of course, call me if you need anything. I will be here momentarily,” the Draenei leader said, and left the room along with the guards.

Anduin kneeled on the floor by his side and placed a worried hand on his chest. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

“What happened to me is what almost happened to you, only I wasn’t naïve enough to actually walk into the trap,” Wrathion said, in a gravelly voice as he turned on his side so they could be face to face. “But unfortunately, I still couldn’t find out who or what that was. The good news is the target I put on my back is working.” Wrathion’s face was half-buried in the covers, but Anduin could still tell he was grinning.

“Where did they hurt you? Let me see,” Anduin said, motioning him to push down the covers.

Wrathion pushed up into a sitting position and tried to remove his shirt without success, only managing to lift it up to his chest before wincing in pain. Anduin’s heart almost broke at the sight, he sat next to him on the bed and gingerly helped him maneuver it over his head while trying to ignore the intimacy of the moment.

The young king couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on the expanse of his bare chest and flat stomach glistening with sweat. He looked back up to his friend’s face and was relieved that Wrathion was too busy trying to reposition himself to notice.

The dragon turned his back to him revealing two deep, angry-looking wounds, one of them was a little above his right shoulder blade, while the other was on his lower back and dangerously close to his spine. Anduin felt himself go pale as he noticed inky tendrils that appeared to be etched into his skin, sprouting out of those wounds.

“I know it looks bad,” Wrathion said, acknowledging Anduin’s shocked silence.

“Has anyone tried to heal you?” Anduin answered, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No, although they were pretty persistent about doing that.”

Anduin couldn’t stop himself from feeling a little flattered; Wrathion didn’t trust anyone in the world apart from him, but that also saddened him. He knew how lonely not being able to trust anyone could feel, although he had found individuals he could count on over the years, and of course, at least he had one of his parents while growing up—for the most part anyway.

He carefully placed his fingers around the wounds to examine them, but Wrathion winced all the same.

“Poison maybe? But what kind of poison could do this to you?” the king asked.

“An Azerite kind of poison,” the dragon answered. “Otherwise those arrows wouldn’t so much as scratch me.”

Anduin thought how those wounds looked more like something the Void could do to someone, but kept it to himself. He spread his fingers and placed his palms on his shoulder blades, Wrathion’s body tensed at first, but then he relaxed into his touch.

The young king bit his lower lip as he tried to ignore how long and thick Wrathion’s hair was, how it covered his ears and the nape of his neck, and reach out to the Light, beg for its assistance. He let his eyes follow the graceful line of his spine all the way down to the waist of his pants.

Anduin swallowed hard and closed his eyes as the Light responded, one of the very forces that shaped the universe acting out his affection as a faint golden aura formed around his hands.

Wrathion moaned, his whole body going rigid in front of him and then relaxed almost immediately, tipping his head down and exposing the hard notch at the top of his spine as his hair fell forward, giving him total access to his shoulders. Anduin looked at his friend bared for him like this and felt a hungry shiver drag up his spine.

He gritted his teeth as he ran the tips of his fingers upwards, over his shoulders and neck. The edges of the wounds glowed and the black tendril-like marks around them began to shrink. Wrathion finally leaned back a bit and tipped his head to the side, letting him do whatever he wanted.

The young king moved his hands downwards, letting his fingers travel all the way from his shoulders to the smallest part of his back. Wrathion’s breathing was now deep and erratic, that was enough to make Anduin half-hard in his pants, and he hated himself for it.

He let out a small breath as the use of the Light took its toll on him and Wrathion made a questioning sound in return.

“Does it hurt?” Anduin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Not anymore.” Wrathion sounded a little dazed, his voice deep and gruff. He lifted his head and moved his shoulders, as if to make sure everything was in place, and the blond felt strong muscles rippling beneath his dark smooth skin.

Anduin let his hands run down to his collarbone and the front of his chest just a little, and Wrathion suddenly held very still, letting him work the tight muscles there as he pushed his fingers in deeper. They remained like that for a moment, and then Anduin pulled his hands back to himself, he felt dirty for taking advantage of his friend’s current state.

He cleared his throat and stood up, but that made him feel lightheaded and he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was trembling with exhaustion.

“The wounds aren’t completely healed,” he said, running his hands through his hair to massage at his scalp. “You will need more healing and a lot of rest.”

Wrathion looked up at him as he repositioned himself on the pillows, his chest still exposed and the covers barely reaching his hips. He patted the bed, inviting him to sit next to him.

Anduin sat back on the bed gratefully, he didn’t expect that healing his friend would take so much out of him.

“I think I can take care of it myself now,” Wrathion answered, as he melted back into the pillows, his head tipped back, eyes closing with a tired sigh.

“Do you need anything else? I can call for another healer, Velen’s people can be trusted and- “

“Booze,” the Black Dragon interrupted him, opening one eye just a crack, as he grinned at him.

Such an unrefined word leaving Wrathion’s lips was a rare occasion and it caught Anduin completely by surprise, making him laugh loudly. He hadn’t laughed like that in weeks—he realized.

“Oh, I’m sorry my king, my time in the South Seas is beginning to show,” Wrathion said, mockingly.

"Do you think they have jihui here?" he added.

"Is that a challenge?" Anduin asked.

"An invitation, if the king's busy schedule allows it," Wrathion said, looking up at him through his lashes.

"I'll see what I can arrange," he replied, getting up to find the guards standing outside, he felt giddy.

Surprisingly, they managed to find their favorite board game, as a Pandaren monk trainer had brought it with him all the way from his homeland, and Anduin couldn't be happier.

He sat cross-legged on the bed as Wrathion set up the pieces. It felt as if no time had passed at all since Pandaria for a brief moment, but Anduin knew that was a lie, so much had happened since then, so many mistakes and so many lies. He pushed the thought aside and reached for a glass of Dalaran red, he wanted to pretend none of those things had happened, even if it was just for one evening.

Wrathion rested comfortably on his pillows with a glass of wine in his hand as he tried to annoy Anduin into making a mistake while he studied the board. He was winning, and the smug expression on his face made Anduin want to push him off the bed.

What eventually made him completely lose his concentration though, was looking up from the board to find Wrathion's eyes locked to his face. The dragon was just staring at him with sleepy, heavy eyes, and he answered him with a slightly drunk smile.

"I'm afraid I am still the better strategist, dear Anduin," he said, after a few beats, making his winning move and putting his drink to the side to cross his arms over his still-bare chest victoriously.

"I'm surprised you are not declaring yourself the best strategist," Anduin snorted, trying to sound annoyed, but he was too happy to care about the outcome of the game, or Wrathion's boasting.

"If I was, I wouldn't have gotten two holes in my back this morning," he replied, setting the board to the side and settling lower in the bed.

"What happened to you?" Anduin asked. "Shaw found me a little before I was informed of your injury, he had a detailed report regarding your whereabouts."

"That's because I let him know my whereabouts," the dragon replied, a little too defensively. "And this morning I was shot in the back while investigating near the coast of Kul Tiras."

"That area is not within our authority. Could it still be one of my own?" Anduin's palms began to sweat.

"I was not in human form when I was hit. I don't think there is a mortal with the strength, or the skill, to take me down midflight."

Someone-or something-had managed to pierce a dragon's scales while soaring the sky. Anduin could feel a headache building up in the back of his head.

"Wrathion, I want you to stop," he said, almost pleadingly. "Whoever they are, they have their sights on you and they won't stop until they remove you from the picture."

"Not happening. I will not let them have their way with this."

"Don't force me to order you to stand down, Wrath. I don't want to see you hurt or killed, I've lost enough already."

"You almost got yourself killed too if I recall correctly. What about all that I've lost? I'd have to visit a monument raised in your honor if I wasn't there to save you!"

Wrathion's voice broke a little as he said those words, stunning Anduin into silence. He felt his heart swell so much it made his chest hurt. The dragon's eyes had softened again, and Anduin held his gaze despite the tears stinging behind his eyes.

Wrathion snaked his hand over the covers and found his, twining their fingers. Anduin stopped breathing.

"I will take care of this," Wrathion finally said, breaking the thick silence. He ran the pad of his thumb over Anduin's knuckles. "Azeroth needs my help."

So do I, the king wanted to say, but he remained silent and enjoyed Wrathion's touch instead.

Then, he did something he would later attribute to the amount of alcohol, exhaustion, and worry he had to go through in one evening. He lied on the pillow next to Wrathion, his chest on the mattress and his head to the side so that he could keep looking into the dragon's scarlet eyes, all the while never letting go of his hand.

Wrathion turned on his side and curled his body, his knees touching the side of Anduin's thigh. How could he be like this? Was he aware of how Anduin felt? Was he being manipulated like his own father was? The moment was too sacred for Anduin to hold onto those thoughts.

"So, would you marry me if I had an army like Baine's?" Wrathion asked, grinning at him tiredly.

Anduin chewed at the inside of his cheek and remained silent, letting his friend study his face, see the comprehension in his eyes. His apology for what he had said back in Ironforge was accepted.

"You're drunk, Wrath. And hilarious," he answered, letting the moment settle in the small space between them, trying to ignore the fact that his smile was a little forced and his answer untruthful.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Wrathion replied, and they both snorted and laughed at the time.

Anduin let go of his hand to flatten his own on Wrathion's chest. He began calling upon the Light but his friend found his hand and stopped him with a soft squeeze. The human's fingers twitched, but he kept them still.

"Just let me-"

"No, that's enough. You've tired yourself enough already," Wrathion interrupted him, his voice gruff, barely above a whisper.

He dragged his dark fingers over Anduin's cheek and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. And that was the most soothing thing Anduin had ever felt. He closed his eyes and just took the comfort.

Memories from the Tavern in the Mists flooded his mind. How the dragon made him feel even back then, even as the world seemed to fall apart at that time too, how he wanted him to only look at him.

When he came back into the present he saw that Wrathion's eyes had closed completely, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

Anduin lied there motionless for some time, watching Wrathion sleep peacefully, feeling thankful that he was still alive. He was not a child anymore, he had to accept that, and by accepting that, he had to face the facts. He could no longer fool himself into thinking that Wrathion was a long time crash he could admire and brood over from a safe distance. No, Wrathion was emotionally involved as well, there was no denying that, but Anduin hadn't gotten over himself enough to see what it was that made Wrathion keep his distance. The realization made him tear up all over again.


End file.
